


got you feeling found

by constantblur



Series: 2018 Writing Challenges [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Keithtober, M/M, Prompt: Childhood Memories, not-so-subtle hint of Keith/Lance, rating is just for minor cursing, this is so fuckign domestic i want to diE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 10:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantblur/pseuds/constantblur
Summary: "So, bad day, huh?" Adam asks.Keith frowns at his back. "How'd you know?""You kicked a wall," Adam deadpans. "And you came to see Takashi."Keith's just looking for a little comfort from Shiro, but winds up finding something entirely different. (Or: Kitten Gets a Forever Home.)





	got you feeling found

**Author's Note:**

> really did not think i was ever going to write vld fic again how did i wind up back here where's the exit????
> 
> anyway, this was suPPOSED to be for keithtober day 3 (childhood memories) but i passed out before i could finish writing it. i meant to keep all my writetober drabbles less than 500 words but adam got carried away and because i love him i just sat back and let him do whatever he wanted

The route’s unfamiliar now—Shiro moved just about a month ago, now living with his boyfriend in a real _house_ like a real _adult_ , what the hell—but it feels instinctive all the same. _Bad day? Go to Shiro’s._

Keith still scoffs and shakes his head at the rocking chairs on the front porch. According to Shiro, Adam was cackling when he brought them home. Also according to Shiro, Adam’s a dumbass who thinks no amount of money is too much to pay to make a stupid joke.

According to Adam, Shiro sits in his rocking chair almost every night because he is, in fact, a 70-year-old man in a boysuit.

Adam is the one who answers the door now.

Keith knows it’s pretty weird and irrational to still feel awkward around Adam. He’s known him for well over a year now and spent a lot of time with him, both at the Garrison as his student and outside of it as Shiro’s charity case.

It’s just . . . well, he _is_ Shiro’s charity case. He’s like some kid who’s getting too invested in the Big Brothers Big Sisters program, and Shiro’s too nice to set real boundaries.

Adam never volunteered to be part of Keith’s life in the first place. He has no reason to care. Maybe he even resents Keith for being around so much.

Keith accepted long ago that he is the reason for the phrase “make something out of nothing.” But just because Shiro sees something in him doesn’t mean anyone else does.

“Keith,” Adam says with a smile. “Good to see you.”

“Oh, uh, hey, Adam,” Keith says, shifting from one foot to another. “Is Shiro home?”

“Not yet,” Adam says. “He had a doctor’s appointment after his last class. It’ll probably be another half hour or so before he gets back.”

“Oh. Okay.” _Stupid. You’ve really gotta stop just showing up_. “I guess I’ll just go then.”

“You could,” Adam says, leaning against the doorframe. “Or you could do me a big favor and stick around to be my guinea pig and taste test these cookie bars I’m baking.” He curves a hand beside the conspiratorial grin on his face as he bends forward a little. “The staff’s having a birthday party for Sanda next week and I need to make sure they’re sweet enough that she’ll hate them.”

Keith freezes in the act of trying to shuffle towards the porch steps. “Um,” he says.

“And,” Adam says knowingly, “I can get you some ice for your foot.”

Keith breathes out shakily. _Damn_. He’d thought he’d be able to hide it from Shiro, but if Adam noticed his limp after just briefly seeing Keith try to walk on it, he absolutely would’ve failed at that. Maybe it’s a small blessing Shiro isn’t home.

“I kicked a wall,” Keith mumbles stupidly.

Adam arches an eyebrow. “I suppose it really deserved that, huh?”

No. Lance did. But Keith can’t kick Lance no matter how much that _jackass_ deserves it, so the wall paid the price.

Well. Really it was just Keith’s foot that paid for it.

Stupid Lance.

“What kind of cookie bars?” Keith asks grudgingly.

Adam grins brightly at him. “I’ve got marshmallow crunch brownies, snickerdoodle cheesecake bars, and the maple butter blondies are just about ready to come out of the oven.”

Keith pretends to consider. “Sounds like I’d be risking diabetes.”

“A worthy sacrifice for the maple butter blondies, honestly,” Adam says.

Keith’s never spent any time with Adam that was with _just_ Adam. This is probably going to be incredibly awkward. But _free maple butter blondies_. “Yeah. Okay,” Keith says, and follows Adam inside. “Diabetes would be the least of my problems anyway,” he mutters, and Adam snickers as he closes the door behind him.

Adam gets Keith set up at the kitchen table with his right foot propped up on an ice pack on another chair. Two plates at the center of the table are stacked with precisely cut bars that look so good— _smell_ so good—that Keith’s stomach rumbles an emphatic: _Gimme_.

Adam snorts as he sets an empty plate in front of Keith. “Better feed that thing.”

Not needing to be told twice, Keith grabs a snickerdoodle cheesecake bar and sinks his teeth into it.

“You’ve gotta try one of each and tell me which one’s best,” Adam says, “so don’t fill up yet.”

“I’m a growing 15-year-old boy,” Keith says around a mouthful of _yum_. “I don’t fill up.”

“Well, at least try not to give yourself diabetes,” Adam says. “I think Takashi would probably get pretty cranky with both of us.”

“True,” Keith says before cramming the last bite of the bar into his mouth.

Adam sighs and goes to check on the blondies. Keith picks up a marshmallow crunch brownie.

“So, bad day, huh?” Adam asks as he pulls the tray out of the oven.

Keith frowns at his back. “How’d you know?”

“You kicked a wall,” Adam deadpans. “And you came to see Takashi.”

Keith deflates. He doesn’t think he likes being so easy to read, but he only has himself to blame for being so wildly unsubtle. “Yeah, bad day,” he mutters.

Adam tosses the oven mitt onto the counter and walks over to pick up a brownie. “Well, go on, talk to Uncle Adam.”

Keith levels him with the flattest stare he can manage. “Uncle Adam?”

“Hm, yeah, not quite right, is it?” Adam says, taking a nibble on the corner of the brownie. “But Brother-in-Law Adam is a mouthful, and Brother Adam makes me sound like a monk.”

Something in Keith’s stomach goes _whoosh_. “Brother?”

“You are _too old_ to be my son,” Adam says, brandishing the brownie warningly.

“What?” Keith says blankly. “I didn’t—what? No. Brother?”

Adam’s smile is warm and bright. “Of course. Takashi’s brother is my brother, too.” 

_Takashi’s brother_.

The tears that sting at Keith’s eyes are immediate and unexpected—and embarrassing as hell.

He scrubs at his eyes with his shirt sleeve. His panicked mind goes: _Red alert, red alert! All systems on emergency response! Evasive maneuvers and distraction tactics, go go go!_

“Uh,” is all Keith manages.

He looks up to see Adam looking stricken. “Keith,” Adam says hesitantly, “is that . . . okay?”

Is that okay. Is that _okay?_ Just five minutes ago, Keith was wondering if he should stop bothering Shiro and Adam altogether and now suddenly they’re—brothers— _family_ —and _is that okay?_

“Uh,” Keith repeats, his brain having shorted out and leaving what’s left of him floundering. “Did—did Shiro—does he really think—did he say that?”

And now Adam’s smile is all-too understanding. “Keith, no one frustrates Takashi more or makes him prouder than you. Of course you’re his brother.”

The words are like a punch to the gut, leaving him winded. At least he doesn’t cry again.

Adam gets him a glass of milk. He sets it on the table, gently grasps Keith’s shoulder for a moment, and then goes to start cutting up the maple butter blondies.

By the time a new plateful of bars appears on the table, Keith’s more or less recovered his faculties. “There’s a boy in my class,” he says, picking up a blondie and dropping it on his plate.

Adam pulls out a chair and drops into it. “Oh, a _boy_ ,” he says cheekily. “You have my attention.”

“Not like that!” Keith says hastily.

“Not like what?” Adam says innocently before taking a bite of blondie.

Keith groans. “He’s an asshole,” he says.

“Ah, one of those types,” Adam says. “Continue.”

In the future, Keith decides there and then, he’s just going to wait to have these conversations with Shiro.

“He just—” Keith pulls a face and takes a moment to try to sort out his thoughts and finally taste the blondie— _exquisite_ , why the hell does Adam even bother flying fighter jets when he could just make these and bring about world peace. “When we’re put on a team together, things are fine. We work well together, he’s got my back, things go a lot better than with most of the other people I’ve teamed up with before. He says nice things to me then. And then—like, as soon as the simulation ends, it’s like a switch gets flipped and he—he just, almost _immediately_ , says some stupid, asshole thing. And I don’t _get it_.”

“Ah,” Adam says again. “You’re talking about Lance.”

“How did you—” Keith squawks.

But Adam interrupts him with a laugh. “Come on, I’ve heard you complain about him before. And you were both in my class last year. You two have been like that since day one.”

“Yeah,” Keith mutters. “But I don’t know _why_. I don’t know what I did to piss him off.”

Adam looks contemplative as he chews on a mouthful of blondie. “I don’t think you did anything,” he says once he’s swallowed it down with a sip of Keith’s milk. “Lance is just extremely competitive. And you,” he gestures with the glass, “are the biggest competition there is.”

Keith frowns down at his blondie. “But we’re good as a team,” he says. “Why do we need to always be competing?”

Adam tilts his head, an uncomfortably shrewd look on his face. “It really bothers you that this kid isn’t your friend, huh?”

“What?” Keith says, startled. “It’s not that I—I don’t care if we’re _friends_. It’s just annoying that he’s always so hostile to me for no reason.” Keith’s seen Lance make easy friendships with nearly everyone else in the class. He’s all smiles and jokes and fistbumps—until Keith’s within a 5-foot radius. And then that switch gets flipped. So what if Keith’s top of the class? Is that really the only thing he did to earn all the scowls and insults?

And jeez, Adam’s still studying him with that Look. “What’s with that face?” Keith snaps.

“Take it up with my parents, they made it,” Adam deadpans.

Keith groans, pulling off a piece of blondie and flicking it at Adam. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam says, picking the blondie bite from his lap and tossing it into his mouth. “It’s nothing, Keith. Just reminiscing about my old Garrison rivalries.”

“Uh huh,” Keith says suspiciously.

Adam smiles innocently and takes another sip of milk. “So? What’s the verdict?” He gestures at the three heaping plates of cookie bars. “Sweetest? Best? Or is it perfection all around because I’m amazing?”

Keith snorts. “They’re tolerable.”

“Bullshit,” Adam says.

“The blondies,” Keith says. “I don’t know how you eat anything else. If I could make those, that’s all I’d ever make.”

Adam closes his eyes and slowly pumps his fist. “I’m amazing,” he repeats.

Keith picks up another blondie and crams half of it into his mouth in one bite. “You’re tolerable.”

“What was that?” Adam says, cupping a hand around his ear and leaning in. “I’m amazing? You eat like a savage beast but I’m pretty sure that’s what that word salad was. Yes, I am amazing, thank you.”

Keith finishes off the milk and plunks the empty glass in front of Adam. “Refill.”

“What’s the magic word?” Adam sing-songs.

Being around this man is excruciating.

“Jackass,” says Keith.

“Not quite,” says Adam.

Keith narrows his eyes and grinds out, “Please.”

“Well, I don’t know what else I was expecting from someone raised by Takashi,” Adam sighs. But he picks up the empty glass and heads over to the fridge. “Hey, you’re almost old enough for a driver’s permit, right?” Adam says suddenly as he pours out the milk.

“Next month,” Keith answers.

Adam returns to the table, setting the glass in front of Keith. “Want me to teach you?” he asks with a smile.

Keith freezes, feeling a little bit like he’s being tricked. He’d just assumed Shiro would teach him. Did Shiro not want to? Or would Keith be insulting him by not even asking before agreeing to have Adam teach him? “Uh,” Keith says.

“Trust me, you do not want Takashi to do it,” Adam says. “He shouldn’t even be licensed. I’m going to report that obvious failure of the system and get that thing revoked.” He grins at the alarmed look on Keith’s face. “Takashi may fly like he was born in a cockpit, but he’s a complete menace on solid ground,” he reveals.

Keith snickers. “I should’ve guessed. He had to be bad at _something_.”

Adam waves that off. “Oh, he’s bad at plenty. I give him endless grief about it to make up for all the adoration he gets over everything else, don’t worry.” He leans back in his chair. “So how about it?”

Keith crosses his arms. “I already know how to drive.”

That makes Adam laugh harder than necessary, in Keith’s opinion. “Oh, I know all about your supposed driving skills,” he snorts. “And be that as it may, you still need an adult to clock, what, four thousand hours with you?”

“I think it’s more like forty,” Keith deadpans.

“Whatever,” Adam says. “You need adult supervision, and not just to sign off on your timecard.”

Keith bites his lip, mulling it over. This has been an extremely strange visit, and not at all in the ways he thought it’d be. Adam’s being so— _nice_. Not that he isn’t always nice, but Keith figured it was always more to do with Shiro being there than anything. Just being civil to Shiro’s charity case because Shiro asked him to. _He has no other friends, Adam. I know it’s pathetic and annoying but he’s a sad little foster kid. Just smile and give him a cookie, that’s all you have to do_.

But Shiro’s not here now, and instead of just the smile and the cookie he thought he’d be getting until Shiro gets home—

Adam called him _brother_ but Keith didn’t think he was really being serious. But maybe he was.

“You’d really do that?” Keith asks quietly.

Adam leans forward, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He waits until Keith meets his eyes and says, sincerely, “Absolutely.”

A door slams from the other side of the house; the one to the garage, Keith supposes, when Adam leans back with a smile and says, “Takashi’s home.”

Instantly, Keith feels very flustered and out-of-place, which is weird because it’s just _Shiro_. But there’s that sting behind his eyes again and he can’t do this, all right, he’s already cried in front of someone once today. He’s not going to bawl like a baby in front of Shiro too. “I should—”

“Hey, honey,” he hears Shiro say behind him, followed by, “Keith!”

Keith turns to see Shiro’s megawatt smile beaming down at him. “Hey, buddy,” Shiro says.

“Hey,” Keith says. He blinks, glances at Adam, looks down, blinks more. “Uh, sorry for just showing up, I’ve been here too long already, should probably head back to the dorm now—”

“Nonsense,” Adam says. “You’re staying for dinner.”

“You should definitely stay for dinner,” Shiro says, nodding sagely. “I’m making fajitas.”

“ _I’m_ making fajitas,” Adam corrects.

“True,” Shiro says, “but I’ll be hovering around asking what I can do to help.”

“Which is always so very helpful,” Adam sighs. He gets up from the table, picking up two of plates of cookie bars.

Keith springs up to grab the third and follow Adam to the counter to set them aside. “Um, are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?” he asks.

“Of course,” Adam says. “You can help. I’ll teach you how to make the best damn fajitas you’ve ever had in your life.”

“Hey,” Shiro says, sounding wounded. “How come he gets to help?”

“Because he’s never set my shirt on fire,” Adam says. He leans in and kisses the pout on Shiro’s mouth. “Oh, stop that. Dr. Larner was happy?”

“Very happy,” Shiro says.

“Good,” Adam says. He opens up the fridge and starts pulling out onions, bell peppers, and avocados. “Oh, guess what? I’m going to teach Keith how to drive. We should take out a life insurance policy on me now because the odds are good that you’ll benefit.”

“Hey!” Keith protests.

“Seconded,” Shiro says. “My car was in very good condition after he stole it. More importantly: why am I not teaching Keith to drive?”

Adam kicks the refrigerator door shut. “Because your car was not in very good condition after you regained full ownership over it,” he says. “Come here, Keith, you’re probably good with a knife, right?”

“Don’t give him a knife,” Shiro says, sounding scandalized.

“I’m great with a knife,” Keith says.

“He’s a teenager, not a toddler,” Adam says with a backwards glance at Shiro.

“I’m not scared of what he’ll do to _himself_ with the knife,” Shiro mutters.

“Wow, glad I stayed for this exciting round of _Let’s Make Fun of Keith_ ,” Keith says, taking the knife Adam holds out to him. His grip on it is vaguely threatening.

“I know you are,” Shiro says, coming up beside Keith and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You love it.”

“He really does,” Adam says, adjusting the flame under the skillet.

Keith pauses for a moment, taking it in. A bright kitchen filled with warm laughter. The sounds and smells of preparing a home-cooked meal. People who want him here, who happily and easily make room for him, who tease him like—like _family_.

“So,” he says, “should I cut Shiro up into fillets or cubes?”

Shiro groans and Adam laughs.

And the gentle teasing and easy laughter continue inbetween Adam’s narration of how he’s preparing the chicken and Keith asking if he’s sliced up enough vegetables yet and Shiro volunteering to fry the chicken and being shooed away by Adam. Keith has moments of stupefaction that nearly stop him in his tracks: this feels so natural, familiar, like this is always how Keith ends his days. Before he knows it, he’s sitting at the kitchen table with Adam and Shiro, listening to their playful banter and eating food he helped make.

And he loves it. He really does.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/constantblur_)


End file.
